The Next Generation
by jkleeberger22
Summary: Stories between 200 and 400 words about the children born in the Fourth Age
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Middle Earth and everyone in it is the product of Tolkien's imagination, not mine. I write fanfiction for fun, and I do not make any profit from it.**

Faramir strode along the streets of Minas Tirith, following his beloved King Elessar. Suddenly, a loud, shrill scream pierced through the air.

Faramir looked up in terror and disbelief. Had the servants of the Enemy returned? He cowered to the ground in fear as the dark shape wheeled over the city, ever coming closer to his king.

"My liege!" The words rasped pitifully from Faramir's throat. "Nazgul!"

Suddenly he felt someone shaking his shoulders. "Faramir, wake up!"

With a start, he awoke to find Eowyn staring at him, curiosity and concern vying with the sleep in her eyes.

"Nazgul," he muttered, trying to shake off the influence of his nightmare.

"Nay, love, there is no danger. It was just a dream," she reassured him, entwining her own slender fingers through his.

"Are you certain?" Faramir asked suspiciously as another shriek came from the back room. "Then what was that?"

"Faramir, that's Elboron."

He groaned. "Again?" When Eowyn nodded, he started to raise himself from the bed. "You've already been up tending him twice tonight. You deserve some rest."

Eowyn's eyes were already drooping as Faramir brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead before hastening in the direction of his son's increasing cries.

He gently lifted the child from his bed and cradled him in his arms. "That's quite the scream you've got, my lad. Let's see if I can recall the song the King Elessar was singing earlier today. Perhaps it will soothe you."

He thought for a moment, then began softly,

" _Her robe was blue as summer skies,_

 _but grey as evening were her eyes;_

 _her mantle sewn with lilies fair,_

 _but dark as shadow was her hair."_

Words in Italics are from the Lay of Luthien by J.R.R. Tolkien


	2. Chapter 2

Four-year-old Eldarion scrambled up onto the window seat to peer out the window and wiggled with impatient excitement. "When will Legolas get here, Ada?"

"Soon, ion nin," Aragorn replied, his own anticipation matching his son's.

As soon as he had heard Legolas would be visiting Minas Tirith, Aragorn had known the perfect way to honor his friend. It had involved tutoring his son in Sindarin, and Eldarion was quite proud of his newfound knowledge, although his vocabulary included only a few short phrases.

"He's here!" Eldarion suddenly shrieked, and he flew out of the room. He presented himself to the golden haired elf and announced breathlessly, "Mae govannen, Legolas!"

Delight spread across Legolas's face. "Gi suilon na vedui, mellon nin. Ci maer?"

Eldarion stared at him for a moment, then shot Aragorn a panicked look.

"I greet you at last, my friend. Are you well?" Aragorn mouthed.

"Um…." Eldarion's face scrunched up in concentration, but the words his father had taught him in Sindarin were stubbornly elusive.

"Yes," he finally answered meekly, abandoning any attempt at speaking in Legolas's native tongue.

Legolas grinned and turned to a glum Aragorn. "Do not worry, mellon nin. It is the thought that counts."


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam! Just look at these two!" Rosie shook her head. "Come on, Frodo lad. We'd best get you into the tub."

As the sound of his wife's footsteps disappeared, Sam looked up from his newspaper. Elanor stood in front of him, her hair loosed from the ribbon her mother had tied it with earlier that day. Her curly golden hair was tousled by the wind, and her dress was in a state of disarray. What Sam especially noticed was a pair of rosy red cheeks and the twinkle of merriment that still danced in the child's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sam dad. Frodo and I were going on an adventure, like you."

"No harm done, lass," Sam reassured her fondly. "No, suppose you sit down and tell me about this adventure?"

Elanor complied, thinking that no one could have a better father than her Sam dad. After chattering about her exploits in the backyard, she pleaded for a retelling of her father's adventures with Mister Frodo.

"I remember the elvish blooms in the grass of Lothlorien," Sam began, running a hand over his daughter's golden hair.

"You named me after them," Elanor continued the well-known tale.

"Because you are just as beautiful as they were," Sam finished.

Elanor cast a doubtful look at her windblown locks and rumpled frock. "Like this, Sam dad?"

The hobbit studied Elanor's face as excitement over her backyard adventures and contentment at hearing a well-loved story flickered in her earnest blue eyes. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Even more so, my Elanor."


	4. Chapter 4

"Ugh!" Eldarion slammed the book shut in disgust. He blushed when his father glanced at him curiously from across the room. The king rose from his chair and strode to his son's side.

"What's wrong, Eldarion?" Aragorn lifted the book that had caused his son's distress and opened it to the book marked page.

"Look at the marks I got on the exercise," the young prince muttered.

"Eldarion, these marks are excellent," Aragorn noted with surprise. "What is wrong with them?"

"Elboron wrote that he got a perfect score. The son of a king should have the highest marks in the land," Eldarion explained, his eyes troubled.

"I do not find that a problem, as long as you continue to do your best. You are not Elboron, nor do I expect you to always beat his score."

When Eldarion did not reply, Aragron continued gently, "There are other things you must know to lead a kingdom that are more important than perfect marks in algebra."

"Like learning how to fight with a sword?" Eldarion asked hopefully. He had not yet obtained the privilege of taking lessons in swordsmanship.

Aragorn chuckled. "Well, yes, but I meant character. I would instead have you learn courage and endurance during difficult times, as well as compassion for your people. A king must know how to put the needs of his kingdom above his own pride or preferences. Sometimes that means accepting help or advice from a wise counselor."

"Like how you get advice from the Lord Faramir?"

"Exactly. Even if his subjects or his son thinks so, a king does not know everything. Nor does he have to," Aragorn reached over and tousled his son's hair.

"I guess that means I don't have to, either," Eldarion said thoughtfully. "Adar, I think I'm okay from that score after all. I know I did my best, and that's more important than the score itself. But since I should accept help from a wise counselor," Eldarion held up the book," would you help me with my homework?"

Aragorn smiled. "I would be glad to."


End file.
